


Best Laid Plans

by writeonclara



Series: Good Vibrations [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Humor, Kidnapping, M/M, Miscommunication, Modern Bucky Barnes, Save Steve From These Inappropriate Assholes, Sex Shop, Shrunkyclunks, Wade Wilson's Terrible Ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeonclara/pseuds/writeonclara
Summary: “Tony. What the hell are you doing here?”“We were hungry,” Stark said, at least pretending like this was all one big happy coincidence. “And it just so happened we were in the neighborhood—”“You were not in the neighborhood,” Steve snarled andwoah. Bucky perked up atthattone of voice. “If all of you”—he snapped his hand out at the group, nearly whacking the goddamn alien god in the face—“werein the neighborhood, then the neighborhood would beon fire.”“—we were in the neighborhood,” Stark continued, unfazed, raising his voice over Steve’s rant, “and thought, how about some lunch between friends?”Or: The Avengers crash Steve and Bucky’s date. Steve reacts badly, Bucky sulks, and all their friends aresuperhelpful.





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Per request, here’s the sequel to American Bombshell!

Of course, their date was crashed by the Earth’s Mightiest Assholes.

It was going so well, too. Steve was game to try everything put in front of him, even crunching into Shrimp Umani, shell and all. It was goddamn endearing—although that probably said more about Bucky’s weird need to take care of people than his taste in men.

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned around a mouthful of sashimi, closing his eyes in appreciation. Bucky was _the_ luckiest person alive, no contest. “Twenty-first Century food is _incredible_.”

“Better than field rations, huh?” Bucky asked. He propped his head up on his hand and watched Steve eat, probably looking dopey as hell but not really caring.

“If I never see Spam again, it would be too soon,” Steve said, and then stole one of Bucky’s spider rolls. Bucky tried—unsuccessfully—to fend him off, but then Steve just stole Bucky’s chopsticks. With his own, because of course he mastered chopsticks after watching Bucky use them for all of five minutes.

“Punk.” Bucky dragged his plate closer and protectively rested his metal arm in front of it.

“You didn’t look like you were going to eat it,” Steve said. He popped the whole roll into his mouth and grinned smugly, making Bucky’s heart perk up like an excited puppy. Maybe he was being over eager, but he could swear this was Steve’s clumsy attempts at flirting with him. It was fucking adorable.

“So you were a soldier?” Steve asked, after devouring his ill-got sushi roll.

“Yeah. Special ops.”

“Me, too.”

It was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue to say, _well, obviously_ , but he swallowed it down before he could make an ass of himself. For all that Bucky had learned about the Howling Commandos when he was a kid, this was pretty recent history for Steve. Like, a month ago, and Bucky remembered what it was like the first month he came home. It—hadn’t been pretty.

“Everyone knows about the soldier, though. What about the man?” Bucky asked, picking up one of the rolls with his metal fingers, since Steve still had his chopsticks.

A small crease appeared between Steve’s eyebrows. “There wasn’t that much room for Steve Rogers during the war.”

Bucky rudely pointed his roll at Steve. “That’s bullshit.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Steve said, with a shrug. “After I enlisted, everything ‘Steve Rogers’ wanted was put on the back burner.”

“What about the little guy?”

“He died with the serum,” Steve lied, smiling ruefully.

Bucky jabbed his roll at Steve again, a little more forcefully, and said, “ _Bullshit_.” When Steve just raised his eyebrows, he rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna sit there and tell me that big personality of yours came with the new package? Because that’s absolute crap.”

Steve opened his mouth, probably to argue because he was stubborn as hell, but then his teeth clicked shut and the shy smile that bloomed across his face made Bucky’s stomach flop around, oh no.

It also made him babble, because Bucky Barnes was a mess of a human. “ _And_ you’ve only been the size of a house for, what, a year and a half? Steve-time? It still must be strange as hell for you. Door frames. I bet you hit them a lot. With your head.”

Jesus. He shoved the roll in his mouth, if only to make himself _shut up_.

“Sometimes I’ll grab a chair when I need to get something from the top shelf,” Steve admitted, sheepishly. Then he leaned back and folded his hands on his stomach. “Okay, so maybe you’re right. I never did like bullies and—used to get into a lot of fights. Worried my ma half to death on a daily basis.”

“I knew it!” Bucky said, triumphantly. “I bet you would go up to guys twice your size and start lecturin’ them like you were their school teacher—”

“—and then they’d pop me in the eye,” Steve agreed, jabbing the air with one fist.

Bucky ducked his head and laughed. “Jesus. You’re somethin’ else, Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes got a little dopey, which made Bucky’s ears burn a little, what the hell, he hadn’t blushed since he was a teenager.

Oh _no_.

“Buck—”

“Well, well, well! _Who_ do we have here?”

It was like Steve got hit with a thousand bolts of electricity. He jerked up, then twisted around to glare over his shoulder at the Earth’s Mightiest striding up to their table like they were on their way to a GQ photoshoot.

“Tony, no,” Steve said, flatly. “No, no, no. What are you guys even doing here? How the hell did you find us?”

The redhead leveled Steve with an _oh please_ look as the others settled around the table, completely oblivious to the sudden shocked silence from the other patrons. Steve had managed to fly under the radar with his frumpy Clark Kent disguise, but it was impossible to miss _all_ of the avengers, especially when one was wearing a billowing red cape. It was—that was _Tony fucking Stark_ squeezing in next to Bucky on the booth—and, and—okay, he didn’t know who anyone else was, since even TMZ was scrambling to figure out the names of the other superheroes, and those vultures knew everything. But after hours of footage being played on repeat on all the major news channels, Bucky would recognize the _goddamn alien god_ thumping into the chair beside Steve, the gorgeous redhead ninja penning in Bucky’s other side, and the tortured arrow guy shuffling into the last chair on Steve’s other side.

“Where’s the big green dude?” Bucky asked, dazed.

“Hulk had prior lunch commitments,” Tony-fucking-Stark said with a hand wave. “Couldn’t make it, sends his regards, et cetera et cetera. So! What are we eating? Sushi? Raw fish seems like a brave choice for an ancient relic.”

Bucky pictured the Hulk hunched over a small bistro set with his big hand wrapped around a coffee cup. Across from him, Steve had a minor stroke. “ _Tony_. What the hell are you doing here?”

“We were hungry,” Stark said, at least pretending like this was all one big happy coincidence. “And it just so happened we were in the neighborhood—”

“You were not in the neighborhood,” Steve snarled and _woah_. Bucky perked up at _that_ tone of voice. “If all of you”—he snapped his hand out at the group, nearly whacking the goddamn alien god in the face—“were _in the neighborhood_ , then the neighborhood would be _on fire_.”

“—we were in the neighborhood,” Stark continued, unfazed, raising his voice over Steve’s rant, “and thought, how about some lunch between friends?”

“We barely know each other,” Steve said, snapping his chopsticks in half with a whole lot of unnecessary muscle bulging. Not that Bucky was complaining.

“Excuse me, Capsicle, but why don’t you let the people who haven’t been frozen for seventy years determine what friendship looks like,” Stark said, actually sounding a little offended. “We’re friends. We had shawarma together. That pretty much means we’re all BFFs. I’m thinking about renaming the Tower.”

Bucky stared in wonder, trying to follow Stark’s logic but getting hopelessly lost at that left turn into nonsensical. He must have meant the Stark Tower. Because he was Tony fucking Stark what the fuck was Bucky’s life.

“We saved New York together,” Stark insisted, like he was was trying to convince Bucky for some damn reason.

“Sure thing, buddy,” Bucky said, because the dude kind of looked like he needed all the support he could get and Bucky was a Good Guy, no matter what Wade said. But since he was also kind of an asshole, and maybe a little in shock at eating sushi with a goddamn alien god sitting across from him, he added, “You should name it Pecker Pillar.”

“Hey!” Stark protested, and beside him the tortured blond guy burst into sudden laughter, covering his eyes with one hand like he was trying to hide his mirth. For all that he looked the most normal out of all of them, dude looked like he’d seen some serious shit, even more than his hero-buddies, although Bucky had a feeling that was a mantle that got passed around on a daily basis.

“I’ll have you know, that building is a technological _masterpiece_ ,” Tony said, outraged.

“Hard-on Headquarters,” Bucky continued, then shook his head, “Look, everyone—well, not everyone, of course—okay, so, your inventions have helped spark a modern technological revolution and all, which I, for one, very much appreciate”—he waggled his bionic fingers at Stark—“but you built a _giant penis_ in the middle of Manhattan. Own it.”

Stark gaped at him, clearly at a loss for words. That probably didn’t happen very often.

“The building does resemble an erect phallus,” said the _goddamn alien god_ , what the hell, with a degree of seriousness completely disproportionate to the situation. “It is a strong, virile symbol. I approve.”

“Oh my God,” tortured arrow guy said, knuckling the corner of his eye. “ _Thank_ you.”

Dude looked like he needed that laugh. Actually, he looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. Poor guy. Bucky set two fingers against the sake bottle and pushed to toward him. Tortured arrow guy wrapped both his hands around the bottle and smiled his thanks at Bucky.

Steve determinedly ignored them all, stabbing viciously at his sushi with Bucky’s chopsticks, the most _preserve me from these assholes_ expression Bucky had seen on his face. And okay, Bucky wasn’t thrilled that their—date?—had been crashed by a bunch of super suits, but Steve looked like he was going to heave the table through the window and storm off in a furious huff. Bucky was coming to the uncomfortable realization that Earth’s Mightiest Heroes maybe weren’t the cohesive unit the media portrayed them to be.

“So,” said the redhead. Bucky didn’t miss the way she purposefully leaned against the table, giving anyone who dared to look an eyeful. It was a tactic he recognized, sometimes even employed, but with considerably less cleavage. Since, as Terry Pratchett had wisely put it, he was ‘gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide,’ Bucky didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Sergeant Barnes. How did you end up working at Good Vibrations after such an—illustrious career?”

Bucky mimicked her relaxed pose, inserting as much cheesy 70s porn in his eyebrow waggle as he could manage, and ignored the way she threw around insider knowledge like knives. He said, “Well, this might come as a surprise, but I _really_ like dick.”

It wasn’t true—well, it really was, but there was more to the story than his love of the penis—but it was totally worth it for the way tortured arrow guy started laughing again and how Steve turned a furious shade of red.

“Ah ha!” Stark said, pointing an accusing finger at Bucky. “So you _do_ like my Tower.”

Steve stabbed Bucky’s chopsticks so hard through his California roll that they went straight through his plate and into the table, making everyone jump. Well, okay, only Bucky and Tony jumped, but the redhead lifted her eyebrows, which was probably the equivalent to leaping out of her skin.

“Can’t I just have one goddamn thing in this century that’s _mine_?” Steve demanded, and woah. That was—that was—

“Moving a little fast for a geriatric, don’t you think?” Tony asked, waving his chopsticks at Steve. “Proposing on your first date?”

“ _No_ ,” Steve snapped, vehemently.

“Hey,” said Bucky, unsure if he should be offended or not.

Steve turned his glare on Bucky, and _wow_. Bucky shrank back slightly and Steve immediately flinched, then tossed his napkin onto the table and shoved his chair back. “I’m leaving.”

“Steve, wait,” Bucky said, stomach dropping. He tried to get to his feet, but he was penned in between the scary redhead and Tony-fucking-Stark. He managed to push himself up into a half-standing, half-sitting position, but couldn’t get much farther without booting the ninja or the billionaire out, both of which would probably end with him killed very dead.

“Yeah, sourpuss, don’t be such a killjoy,” Stark said, jabbing toward Steve with his chopsticks. “What’s got your panties in a twist, anyway?”

“The _company,_ ” Steve snarled. “This was supposed to be a private affair—”

“Oh _ho_ ,” Tony said, salaciously, and Bucky elbowed his side, which was probably illegal.

Steve gritted his teeth, then closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Bucky, I’m sorry. I’ll—see you around.”

And with that, Steve spun around on his heel and stormed out of the restaurant, abandoning Bucky with Earth’s Mightiest. Mightiest _Assholes_.

Bucky slowly sank back into his chair. Then he folded his arms and glared pointedly around the table. “Thank you for that.”

The other superheroes didn’t actually shift uncomfortably, but they did lapse into an awkward silence, even as they picked their way through the remains of Steve and Bucky’s failed lunch.

“How was I supposed to know Captain America was such a primadonna?” Stark muttered.

“Excuse me!” Bucky called, waving at one of the waiters and not even caring that he was kind of being a jerk.

The waiter practically sprinted to their table, all eager smiles and solicitude. “What can I help you with, sir?” he asked Bucky, though his eyes kept jumping to Stark.

“I need sake.”

“Of course. How many bottles would you like?”

“All of them.” Bucky jerked his bionic thumb toward Stark. “He’s paying.”

Stark shrugged as if to say, _fair_.

* * *

And then the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan left him on read. For _a week_.

Bucky was not sulking.

So he’d read Steve all wrong. It had been a long shot, anyway; Captain America was clearly on the straight and narrow and didn’t need someone as—morally ambiguous as Bucky in his life. He was okay with it. Really.

“Why does he look a teenager who caught his prom date getting frisky to the high school quarterback?” Wade whispered to Vanessa. It was after hours, the only time Wade showed his face. Bucky guessed that the guy had been caught in a fire, but Wade never talked about it, and Bucky never pushed. Not like _he_ enjoyed his traumatic injuries discussed in detail.

“Captain America ghosted him,” Vanessa whispered back.

“Ohhh.”

“I can hear you assholes,” Bucky said, glaring at Wade and Vanessa, who were tucked in a corner not four feet away from him. They were all crowded behind the counter, even though Bucky had been there _first_ and there were plenty of other places where they could lurk and gossip about him. Bucky had a feeling the two of them were genetically coded to be as obnoxious as possible.

“Listen, Buck Rogers. Get it? Buck _Rogers_?” Wade said, sidling up to Bucky’s side and right into his personal bubble. “If you want to get Red White and Sexy’s attention you gotta think big. Like bank robbery big.”

“I’m not robbing a bank, Wade,” Bucky said, long suffering.

“Car bomb?”

“No!”

“You _are_ a tough customer. It’s a good thing you’re so pretty,” Wade said, scratching his chin.

Vanessa dropped her hand on Wade’s shoulder, pulling him back a little. “Maybe start smaller?” she suggested.

Bucky looked at her, as if to say _you think?_

“You know where he lives,” Vanessa said, shrugging one delicate shoulder and somehow managing to not sound _that_ creepy. “Visit him? Or, no, maybe not. Send him, I don’t know, an apple pie? What do symbols of American freedom like, anyway?”

“Hm,” Bucky said.

* * *

Bucky sent the American Bombshell War Daddy to Stark Tower, Attention: Captain Asshole.

It went down about as well as expected.

* * *

“Still no word from Captain Angeltits?” Wade asked when he found Bucky sulking behind the counter of Good Vibrations two nights later.

Bucky fished his cellphone out of his pocket and pushed it toward Wade. The lock screen image was a close up of Steve’s face when he opened Bucky’s gift to find an aggressively veiny dildo.

“I think Iron Man sent the picture to me,” Bucky said, over Wade’s excited squeals.

“Oh my god,” Wade said, clapping his hands to his face. “Do you think he _used_ it?”

“Doubt he could fit it considering what a tight ass he is,” Bucky muttered, then abruptly felt like he’d stomped on the American flag and then set it on fire. It didn’t help that Wade was staring at him like he’d just been given a stack of gold bars.

“I _knew_ there was a reason why I liked you so much!” He clapped his hands together, than leaned on the counter, into Bucky’s personal space. “Sooo, has he been properly seduced?”

Bucky tapped on his phone, pulling up Steve’s face again. He most definitely did not look seduced. His giant mit was covering his face, like Stark had caught him in the middle of a facepalm.

Wade looked at him expectantly.

“No, Wade. He hasn’t been seduced.”

“Poop,” Wade said. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t be. That was an awesome gift.”

Actually, it had been Bucky’s petty response to being abandoned and then ignored, which in retrospect was _just_ a little shitty. He dragged his bionic hand over his face and exhaled an irritated breath. “Fun while it lasted, I guess.”

“Have you reconsidered robbing a bank?” Wade pleaded. “I could be your getaway driver!”

“No, Wade.”

Wade jutted out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. He drummed his fingers on the table, face screwed up in concentration. It made his scars tug over his forehead, but honestly, Bucky didn’t notice them anymore. Wade was just—Wade.

“Storm Stark Tower and kidnap the good Captain? Me and V can be your backup!”

“ _No,_ Wade.”

“Fine, fine,” Wade sighed, like Bucky was the biggest stick in the mud. “That would be fucking hilarious,” he muttered, which probably meant he’d been hoping Captain America would snap and strangle Bucky.

“Dickhead.”

“Ooh, I know! ‘The jealous are possessed by a mad devil’,” Wade said, which sounded awfully poetic. There were depths to Wade hidden by layers upon layers of snark and extremely inappropriate jokes. “Bet you anything if you put out to someone else, your boy in blue will tear off your clothing in a jealous fit.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Bucky said. When Wade waggled his eyebrows salaciously, Bucky shook his head. “Nope, never mind. How can can you make me feel dirty in the middle of a sex shop? I don’t understand.”

“It’s my secret power.” Wade patted Bucky’s bionic hand. “Don’t you worry about Spangles. Leave everything to Wadey-poo.”

“Please stop helping,” Bucky begged.

* * *

The next day, Bucky walked into Good Vibrations to find Black Widow perched on top of the counter, gorgeous legs crossed at the knee. He froze, then carefully scanned the room for all possible exits (as if he hadn’t memorized them years ago).

“James,” she said, coolly, sending a whole parade of ants down Bucky’s spine. For all that she was surrounded by dicks, whips, and skin mags, she sure classed up the place with her all black ensemble and perfectly coiffed red hair.

“Miss Widow.”

Black Widow curved a smile at him that didn’t go anywhere close to her eyes. “Natasha, please,” she said.

After Steve had stomped off in his epic hissy fit, Bucky had gotten to know the Avengers, and actually liked most of them, even if they were date crashing assholes. Natasha, though. Bucky couldn’t get a read on Natasha, and that made him suspicious.

“How did Wade convince you to come here?” Bucky asked, sidling further into the shop. The only weapon within reach was a giant silicone fist. Bucky was reasonably sure Natasha would flay him alive and scatter his remains in the Hudson if he so much waved it at her.

“What do you know about your boss?” Natasha asked.

“He’s weird? Really weird.” At Natasha’s unimpressed look, Bucky shrugged. “We’ve got a strict ‘don’t tell me what you do in your free time Wade please dear god’ policy in place around here.”

Natasha hummed, tapping her heel against the glass case that displayed a wide variety of cock rings. “Is that so, Winter Soldier?”

Bucky smiled at her, very friendly. “That’s so.”

Natasha eyed him for a long, quiet moment. “I’m willing to help you,” she said, changing the subject. Smart woman.

“You are?”

“I feel moderately responsible for how your date with Steve ended. Especially since it’s been a personal mission of mine to get the good Captain to cut loose once in awhile,” Natasha said, pulling out a phone from—somewhere, Bucky honestly had no idea where she kept it, those pants were painted on. “Stark is hosting a charity event this weekend. Steve is attending.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. “I don’t think—”

“You may take me,” Natasha said, tapping on her phone. A moment later, Bucky’s phone buzzed with a new calendar invite with an intimidating number of details, including the style, color, and length of Natasha’s dress.

“Listen, I appreciate your offer, but Steve clearly isn’t interested and I’m not desperate enough to keep pushing,” Bucky said, shrugging off his coat and tossing it behind the counter. “I’m sorry Wade dragged you into one of his hairbrained schemes—”

“That wasn’t an offer,” Natasha said, flatly. She hopped off the counter and got right into Bucky’s space. She was several inches shorter than him, even with her heels, but somehow she made him feel about three inches tall. “You are taking me to that gala, James. _Don’t_ be late.”

“Sounds good,” said Bucky.

* * *

Bucky had no idea why he kept letting his asshole friends talk him into their ridiculous schemes.

“This was a terrible idea,” Bucky hissed, pressing his mouth close to Natasha’s perfect hair.

It had been easy enough to slip into the role of charming arm candy, offering his arm up to Natasha and pasting on his most devastating smile. They made a goddamn good looking couple, if Bucky did say so himself. What no one saw, however, was the way Natasha was digging her nails into his arm to keep him from fleeing the scene of excess and luxury.

“You’re doing a fine job,” Natasha said, barely moving her lips. She smiled brightly at the balding guy regaling their group with an incredibly boring story about his yacht and drilled new holes into his bicep with her razor sharp claws.

“I feel like they can see how many zeroes are in my bank account just by looking at me.”

Natasha lifted one perfect eyebrow at him. “You care?”

“Well, okay, no, but I’m pretty sure this blowhard is actually talking about his dick instead of his yacht, and the only dick I’m interested in is—”

“Look, there’s Captain America,” Natasha said.

Bucky perked up, then elbowed Natasha lightly on the side when she snickered. Steve in a tailored suit was—god _damn_.

“Close your mouth, James,” Natasha stage-whispered.

Bucky closed his mouth around a strangled noise. “His _shoulders_.”

Natasha twinkled up at him. “I believe he has super hearing, darling.”

On cue, Steve’s head snapped towards them. His blue eyes got big and an unidentifiable emotion flashed across his face. Bucky had _no idea_ what that look meant, except that it made his heart kick into double time.

With heroic effort, Bucky dragged his eyes away from how Steve’s suit jacket was straining across his chest. He wrapped a hand around Natasha’s wrist and tugged her away from the yacht guy to where several couples, including Tony-fucking-Stark and Pepper Potts, were shuffling awkwardly to the strains of a live band, god, what had his life become.

“We’re dancing,” he told her, frantically.

“I see that,” Natasha said. Her expression was blank, but there was laughter in her voice. He had a feeling she was letting him hear it, which of course meant she was laughing _at_ him, the asshole.

It was nice dancing with someone like Natasha, who clearly knew what she was doing. For a moment he could even forget about Steve, as she tugged him into a basic waltz and they twirled around the room, easily showing up Stark.

“You’re not terrible at dancing,” Natasha said.

“Thank you for your ringing endorsement.”

Steve, however, _was_ terrible at dancing, which he displayed with gusto when he lumbered after Natasha and Bucky, lugging with him an irritated—but gorgeous—brunette.

“Maria,” Natasha greeted, laughter still evident. At least this time she was laughing at Maria instead of Bucky.

“Natasha,” said Maria, long-suffering.

“Really?” Steve hissed, leaning into Bucky’s personal space. He was close enough that Bucky could feel the heat of his breath, and it made his skin prickle with goosebumps. “American Bombshell War Daddy?”

Not to be outdone, Bucky leaned even closer. Steve smelled like clean laundry and mint and radiated heat like an old furnace. Bucky grinned slowly at him, tilting his chin down slightly to look up through his eyelashes. “You didn’t like my gift?”

“No,” Steve growled. Bucky shivered a little, and Natasha pinched his arm warningly. “What are you doing here, Bucky?”

“Well, Steve,” Natasha cut in, smiling beatifically at him. “After you left the sushi restaurant a couple weeks ago, James and I got to chatting. We _really_ hit it off.”

Steve’s eyes sparked, but he managed a genuine smile. It looked somewhat—blank. Like the kind he might paste on for an interview with Fox News. “That’s good.”

“Right?” Natasha asked, squeezing Bucky close. She had one helluva grip. Bucky tried not to squeak. “We’re so happy, aren’t we sweet pea?”

She was laying it on a little thick, but he patted her back in a way that he hoped looked intimate. “Sure are, buttercup.”

Natasha didn’t do anything as outwardly unprofessional as laugh out loud, but Bucky could feel her vibrating with suppressed mirth.

Steve nodded, not taking his eyes off Bucky. “That’s—good,” he repeated, then winced and cleared his throat. He dragged his eyes to Natasha. “I thought, you and Clint—” he cut off at her sudden change of expression. “Right. Never mind.” He smiled again, and the thing was, Steve really did look like he was happy for them, because he was Captain America and thought self-sacrifice should be a national pastime.

Or he never actually was into Bucky.

“Hey, you guys have fun tonight. It was good seeing you again, Bucky,” Steve said, all sunshine and apple pie. “Hopefully we’ll see each other soon.” And then he twirled his partner away with the grace of a charging hippo. Bucky didn’t need super hearing to pick up Maria’s irritated curse when Steve, yet again, stepped on her foot.

Bucky and Natasha watched them in silence.

“That was a monumental failure,” Bucky muttered, shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know about that,” Natasha hummed, thoughtfully.

Steve didn’t approach him again that night, probably because he’d scared Maria off and couldn’t find anyone else suicidal enough to dance with him, and Natasha didn’t let him off the dance floor. She didn’t show it, but Bucky could tell she was having fun, forcing him into increasingly complicated dance moves and lighting up like the goddamn sun when he matched her step for step. And, okay, it actually _was_ fun. Natasha was a phenomenal dancer and pretty damn awesome people when she let her shields down a little.

“Buckaroo!” Tony bellowed when Bucky managed to convince Natasha to take a break for drinks. “You’re here!”

“I am here,” Bucky said, grinning as Tony stumbled up to him. Tony caught himself against Bucky’s left arm, but didn’t let go after he regained his balance.

“A drink! For my friend. Our finest whiskey, straight, there’s a good man,” Tony said, not even looking at the poor schmuck manning the bar. He tugged on Bucky’s sleeve insistently. “Alright, let’s see it.”

“My my,” Bucky said, flattening his free hand against his chest. “I usually expect dinner before I disrobe.”

Tony scrutinized him, then shook his head. “Liar.”

Bucky chuckled and dutifully shucked off his suit jacket. He loosened his tie and popped off the top button, goddamn grateful to unbutton a bit, then pushed up the sleeve of his metal arm to his elbow. He took the whiskey slid to him, knocked it back, then held his arm out to Tony.

Tony whistled, rotating the arm back and forth, looking grudgingly impressed. “Is this Pym? This has got to be Pym Tech. I’m insulted you would go to Pym instead of me.”

“Didn’t actually have time to shop around,” Bucky admitted.

“I can do better than this.” Tony looked challengingly up at Bucky. Bucky picked up his refilled glass and held it up to Tony in cheers. Tony’s face split into an excited grin. It took years off his face, making him look like an excited kid. “Do you like finger lasers?”

“Nope,” Bucky said, sipping his drink. The whiskey was smooth and rich and probably worth more than the arm Tony was fawning over. “Not willing to accidentally hurt a partner, if you know what I mean.”

“Shrewd. Vulgar, but shrewd—”

Tony’s voice faded away when Bucky caught sight of a certain blond punk dancing with a regal gray haired woman. Bucky’s lips twitched into a grin. Apparently, the old woman didn’t trust Steve to lead. Steve was following without complaint—without much grace, either, but the old lady had the patience of a saint.

Something flashed in his periphery. Before he could look around, Tony’s hand waved in front of his face.

“Ground control to Major Barnes,” Tony said.

“Sergeant, actually,” said Bucky, then shook his head quickly. “What? Yeah, sure, EMPs. Whatever you want, Tony.”

Tony considered him shrewdly. “Not like those words aren’t music to my ears, but the more important question is: you really got a thing for Cap or is it just sexual?”

Bucky scowled, then slugged back the rest of his drink. “Not like it matters,” he grumbled, slumping against the bar.

“Cap needs someone who sees him as—not Cap. The team—we don’t always have the luxury to differentiate between Steve Rogers and Captain America. So yeah, it matters if you’re only in it because you have a Cap-kink, or something.”

“It fucking doesn’t,” Bucky growled. “Steve has made it perfectly clear that he’s not interested. I’m only here because my friends got tired of me being a pathetic asshole.”

Tony stared at him like he was deeply regretting his decision to surround himself with dumbasses, then grabbed his arm again like it was one of his robot toys. Bucky sighed, but let him. He was used to people (Wade) ignoring his boundaries. “I guess that’s my answer,” Tony said.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Tony flapped a hand, then pulled out a fancy looking phone and started tapping on the screen. “What about full autonomy?”

“You mean, when it’s detached from my body?” Bucky asked. He considered it, then shrugged his flesh arm. “Sounds creepy. I like it.”

“Good man.”

* * *

Natasha and Tony clearly didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. It was a week after Tony’s gala and Bucky still had seen neither hide nor hair of a certain national icon. It was time for him to move on. No more sulking at Good Vibrations after hours. Bucky Barnes was going to get a life.

“Maybe you should—” Vanessa started, in Good Vibrations, after hours.

Bucky karate chopped his hand through the air in front of her face. “No. Nope. I’m done. Bucky Barnes begs for no man, not even Captain America.”

“You’re talking like a quitter,” Wade said. The vibrating cockring he was playing with rattled against the glass display case. “You’ve barely even begun.”

“I am not going down in history as Captain America’s creepy fanboy stalker,” Bucky said, glaring.

“What about—”

“Ah ah!” Bucky shouted, waving his hands. “No more of your brilliant ideas. I’m d-o-n-e done.”

He pointedly ignored the way Wade and Vanessa looked at each other. He would just have to deal with whatever dumb plan they tried to push him into.

* * *

In retrospect, he really should have known better.

“Hey,” Bucky said to the weedy blond who had, apparently, kidnapped him. Thirty minutes ago he’d woken up to a dank cellar, of all places, handcuffed to a chair, with a throbbing head and the smell of chloroform stuck in his nose. “Did Wade put you up to this?”

The weedy guy darted a nervous glance at him. He was a skittish dude, with stringy blond hair and a huge beak that curved down, like he actually was a bird. “And if he did?”

Bucky rolled his eyes heavenward. He was going to have some stern words with Vanessa and Wade after this. The hell with it. “Can you just, cut my shirt a little?” Bucky asked, indicating his collar with his chin. “You know, so I can flash a nip or something?”

“ _What_ ,” weedy guy said.

“Look, if I’m going to be the damsel in distress, I have to be at least a little seductive, and I could really use your help. You’d be doing me a solid, man.”

His kidnapper took a step back. “You want to—seduce me?”

“Not _you_ ,” Bucky said, scathingly. “Captain America. Obviously.”

Weedy guy considered this, then shrugged a little and pulled a knife from a back holster. He swiped it across Bucky’s chest.

“Hey!” Bucky yelped, jerking back when the tip of the knife sliced through his skin. He stared down at his chest, eyes wide when blood welled out of the shallow cut and seeped into his shirt. “I just meant my shirt. That better not scar, you bastard.”

“Shut up,” weedy guy said, his voice coming out high and thin, like he was beginning to freak out. “You—you’re my hostage.”

Bucky narrowed his at him. “Are you being serious right now? You’re going way off script here, buddy. I’m only your _pretend_ hostage. Didn’t Wade give you the deets?”

“Hail HYDRA!”

Oh.

Great.

Von Doom or whatever dumb name he probably called himself was an actual fucking villain and Bucky was an _actual fucking idiot_ for letting himself get kidnapped by him. How the fuck did Wade know this Nazi Nobody anyway? If Wade was tied up with these assholes in any way, Bucky would need to have a serious talk with his boss. With his fist. The metal one.

“Are you crazy?” Bucky bellowed, so loud that von Doom jumped a foot into the air. “Do you know what Captain America will do to you? He’ll rip you in half! He’ll throw you out the window!”

“Not if he doesn’t want his precious Bucky injured,” von Doom said with false bravado.

Bucky froze. He tilted his chin down. Lowered his eyebrows. In his most even tone of voice, he said, “If you even think about using me to get to Captain America in any way, I’ll cut you another mouth to grin with, right across your throat.”

Von Doom looked gratifyingly intimidated. “You—you won’t be able to.”

There was an explosion of noise just outside the building. A moment later, the metal door flew off its hinges and slammed into the opposite wall, then toppled to the floor with a clang. Before von Doom could do something halfway intelligent, like run away or let Bucky go, Captain America blew into the room like a hurricane gale.

He was _pissed_.

That shouldn’t have gotten Bucky as hot as it did, considering the gun pressed against the back of his head.

“Bucky,” Captain America snapped, sounding seriously irritated for a rescue mission. “What the hell was that text?”

“What text?” Bucky snapped back.

“‘You better save your smoochie-poo before a different blond gets to his sweet ass first’.”

Bucky’s cheeks heated and he ducked his head a little. “Wade’s idea of help,” he muttered.

“Christ,” Steve growled, stalking toward him, either ignoring or forgetting about von Doom’s gun pressed against the back of Bucky’s head.

“Ah ah Captain!” von Doom said, in a surprisingly strong voice. “One wrong move and your pretty little friend gets his brains blown out.”

“I mean,” Bucky said, “that _is_ my endgame—ow!”

Von _Asshole_ pistol whipped him across the back of his head, hard enough that stars exploded across his vision. Bucky was going to _kill_ this little shit.

“You may think you’ve won with your pitiful successes, but it’s time for HYDRA to take control once again—”

“Shut up, Bradley,” Captain America said, sharply.

“ _Bradley_?” Bucky demanded, outraged. “Your name is _Bradley_? What kind of lame-ass super villain name is _that_?”

“Shut up!” Bradley shouted, and he probably would have whipped Bucky again had Captain America not smashed him in the face with his shield and sent him flying across the room.

“Nicely done,” Bucky said, craning his head around to see where Bradley was sprawled across the floor, out cold.

“Are you hurt?” Captain America asked, snapping his shield onto his back.

“‘It’s just a scratch,” Bucky said.

Captain America’s eyes gratifyingly drifted to Bucky’s bare chest, snagging on his nipple piercing. Bucky may have flexed. Just a little bit. Possibly that made him just bleed more.

“So,” Bucky said. “I can explain.”

Captain America folded his arms over his chest. “How did you get yourself kidnapped by _this_ mook?”

Bucky would have folded his arms over his chest too, if they weren’t handcuffed behind his back. He settled for shrugging a little. “Wade asked nicely?”

“Wade asked— _Bucky_.”

“Hey, I can safely say I had nothing to do with this,” Bucky huffed. “My boss may have gotten it into his head somehow that I needed help—which I didn’t—and arranged to get me kidnapped.”

“By HYDRA,” Steve said, and holy hell, he was _furious_.

“I don’t think Wade has anything to do with Hydra, but I promise I’ll have very strong words with him about his less reputable friends,” Bucky said, quickly, because for all that Wade was a gigantic pain in his ass, Bucky rather liked him and didn’t want him to be indiscriminately murdered by Captain America. Wade really looked up to the guy. He puffed out a breath. “I should have gone with his first suggestion and robbed a bank.”

Captain America covered his face with one hand. Bucky chewed on his lower lip. Forget not interested—the Captain very clearly didn’t want, or need, Bucky in his life.

“Can you at least take off these handcuffs?” Bucky asked, the back of his neck prickling with growing embarrassment. He tried for a grin, unwilling to show that he was anything but one hundred percent comfortable, handcuffed to this chair, in the middle of a dank cellar. It, unsurprisingly, fell flat.

The giant hand slid down, revealing hard blue eyes. “I don’t know. I kind of like you tied up like that. Keeps you out of trouble.”

“Well, well, well,” said Bucky, flirting purely out of self-preservation. “You have hidden depths, Captain.”

The blush and glare was purely Steve Rogers. When he didn’t immediately free Bucky from the handcuffs, Bucky sighed a little and tore them apart.

Steve gaped at him, slack jawed and, and maybe even a little turned on, though that was probably Bucky being hopeful.

“What?” Bucky said, defensively. “I have depths too, you know.”

“You could have freed yourself at any time?” Steve demanded.

“My decision-making skills are already in question here.” Bucky got to his feet, rubbing his flesh wrist with his bionic hand. A crushing weight was starting to press down on his chest. “Listen, Steve,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone—hell, I was planning on leaving you alone, but Wade took the initiative, unfortunately. But I get your message loud and clear. I promise you won’t hear from me again.”

Instead of looking relieved, Steve ripped off his helmet to scowl at Bucky. “Excuse me. _You’re_ the one who made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Me? _Me_? You left me on read for a week!”

“I don’t even know what that means!” Steve snapped, throwing his hands to the air.

“You ditched me on our _date_ and then went MIA!”

“ _You_ sent me a horrifying sex toy, called me Captain Asshole, and then showed up at Tony’s gala with Natasha! And then you sent me that picture!”

Bucky felt all the blood rush up to his face, and then rush abruptly back out. Had Wade stolen his phone and sent Steve a, a scandalous photo? Oh god, if one of his friends sent _Steve Rogers_ a _dick pic_ — “ _What_ picture?”

Steve yanked his phone out of his _fucking utility belt_ , jabbed the screen with more force than was probably good for it, then waved it accusingly at Bucky. “ _This_ photo!”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s wrist to steady the phone, then frowned. The photo had to have been taken at Tony’s gala. He was leaning against the bar, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie undone, and smiling at someone off-camera. It was his tipsy grin, which looked remarkably like his ‘let’s fuck’ grin.

“Fucking Natasha,” Bucky muttered, since she was the only one who could have possibly nicked his phone off him.

“So what the hell was I supposed to think?” Steve demanded, shoving his phone back into his utility belt.

“I was grinning at you, you putz!” When Steve gaped at him, momentarily shocked into silence, Bucky raked his fingers through his hair, suddenly shy. “I mean, you were dancing with that old regal lookin’ lady, and she was leadin’ and—” He slid his hand back to rub the back of his neck. “I was just thinkin’ how cute you looked.”

Steve stared at him, eyes round with lingering anger. Then all the air left him in a gusty sigh and he visibly deflated, tension leaking from his tightly wound stance.

“I was trying to get your attention,” Bucky muttered, feeling like a sulky pre-teen. He had to stop himself from scuffing his foot against the floor. “The only thing I claim responsibility for is the dildo. I _swear_ I didn’t get kidnapped on purpose.”

Steve said nothing, just watched him with that damn unreadable look on his face. Aw, to hell with this. Bucky scanned the room for any other exits that weren’t blocked by angry superheroes, or maybe for something large to conveniently knock him out, right now, please dear god.

And then Steve laughed. A great big belly laugh, with one arm around his middle. It was infectious; Bucky couldn’t stop his own instinctive laugh in response, ducking his head slightly. Okay, the whole situation was pretty fucking ridiculous.

Steve wiped the corners of his eyes, trailing off to breathless chuckles. “I’m sorry for, uh, ‘leaving you on read,’ whatever that means. I was dealing with several years of repression. Badly.”

“Well,” Bucky said. Something inside his chest squirmed at Steve needing to ‘deal with years of repression’ because of him. “I’m sorry I sent you a horrifying sex toy in response. That—probably didn’t help.”

“Not really,” Steve agreed.

“There’s nothing between Natasha and me,” Bucky added, suddenly and urgently needing Steve to understand that. “In case you didn’t realize I am super duper gay.”

That smile that could light up all of New York spread across Steve’s face. _Oh no_. Bucky was in so much trouble. “I knew it, you filthy liar.”

“So, what now?” Bucky asked. He wanted to grab Steve by his ridiculous shoulders, but he wasn’t sure if that was too forward. Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at him, rocking back on his heels.

Steve started toward the exit, a small bounce to his step. “I don’t know, someone recently told me about vibrating butt plugs…”

Bucky stood frozen for several long seconds, long enough for Steve to disappear out the door. Then he scrambled after him, shouting, “Wait, Steve, are you serious right now? Steve, you better not be fucking with me. Steve!”


End file.
